And the Snap Echoes

Tokyo Assassin

A lone figure stalked through the dark streets of Tokyo.

A katana in one hand, a nunchaku in the other, and a knife strapped onto his belt. He only had one goal in mind – eliminate the members of the house in front of him. Simple. Get inside, slice all of them up, get out unnoticed, leave the city. That's it.

Stooped outside the side window of the house, the figure looked inside. One man, one woman, and two children, their kids most probably. Bad luck for them, all of them had to die. And if he was right, those four people weren't what they looked like. Unless he was wrong, the people in front of his eyes were the reason that he had been left all alone, the reason he had lost everyone he knew.

"I can't afford to think about them, not at this time."

He focused on his targets, thinking about how to eliminate them in a manner which would place the least amount of suspicion on him. He noticed a crack in the window, but then realized that it would be of no use. He no longer had projectiles. He would somehow have to enter the house and kill them point blank.

He shifted towards the rear section of the compound, checking for any back door. None, to his dismay. He continued foraging for even a slight entry into the house. And soon enough, he found one. One of the windows on the left section of the house was open.

"Great," he smiled in an evil manner.

Like a cat, he sneaked quietly through the window and found himself in what appeared to be one of the kid's bedroom. He looked around. It looked genuine enough. It would be a disaster if he somehow ended up murdering the wrong people. With half the population gone, it would be ghastly if he were to reduce that half any more – the idea was just unthinkable. He prayed that he was in the right house.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not hear one of the kids coming into the room. Light flooded the room as the kid, a girl switched on the light.

In order to not be seen, the figure leaped out of the window and into the overgrown shrubbery, making an exit through a hole in the rear fence.

Far from any signs of civilization, the assassin took off his mask. His eyes were brimming with tears. It had been the wrong person. 

He took off his armor. He brought out a belt.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

His back reddened with each lash. But he didn't stop. He continued, hoping that it would atone for all the sins he had ever committed. All the mistakes he had ever committed, all the errors committed on his behalf. But it didn't help. 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Finally, he stopped, just when he thought he would collapse. He took out salt from the pantry, and clenching his jaw, he applied it on his back.

"AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

He didn't stop. He just continued, applying more and more and more, until he passed out.

When he came to the next morning, he switched on the news once again. There was a 100,000 ¥ bounty on his head.

"Well, let them try. They'll never be able to find me."

He gathered his belongings and stepped out to search for a new hiding spot – his mask and armor safely stowed away in his backpack. He hiked for a few kilometers and came upon an abandoned barn. Deciding that it was safe enough, he unpacked and got back to searching for his target.

The entire day was taken up by that, and he was about to call it a day. He switched on the news just before turning in for the night. He skimmed through the usual bulletin and was just about to turn it off when something caught his eye.

There seemed to be a new reporter for the sports sections, and he was pretty sure that he was the guy that needed to be eliminated. The assassin quickly gathered all the details, which only included the reporter's address, and decided to intercept him while he was on his way home.

He soon found himself in Shinjuku, armed with a gun. He had decided that he'd better carry a gun in case it came to killing from large distances. He was an expert marksman anyways, so there was no need for practice. He saw his victim getting out of the car, headed towards the house. The smug smile on the reporter's face, which could've been there for any reason, made the assassin's blood boil.

In a moment of anger and rage, he stepped out of the shadows.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my backyard?!"

"You're gonna pay for what you've done, you bitch!! What have I ever done to you? Why did you have to kill them??!!!"

"Look, I have no idea what you're talking about. I think you should get out before I call the police, you understand? Just get out!!"

The assassin was inclined to believe him; his tone was pretty convincing after all. He took a sneaky glance backward and saw a figure sneaking in the bushes. Realizing that it had been spotted, it dashed out of the rear gate and into the streets of Shinjuku. The assassin gave chase.

"Heyy! Where d'you think you're- "

The figure had gotten a pretty good head start, but the assassin had trained almost all of his life for this. He quickly covered up the gap between them, and soon, he was within shooting range. But he wasn't satisfied. He knew that shooting him dead would not give him any pleasure. Instead, he took out his pistol and fired a shot at his leg.

Hitting the target, the fleeing figure fell hard on the pavement. Hearing the shot, the entire crowd panicked and ran helter-skelter. But this did nothing to stop the assassin from reaching his target. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the figure writhing in pain on the ground.

Green blood was leaking out from where the bullet had made contact.

"TELL ME!! WHAT ARE YOU??!"

"I'm- I'm a- I'm a Skrull. Please believe me, I did not do anything to you. The dusting had nothing to do with us. We- we- even we were affected by it. Believe me."

Without a word, the assassin took his katana from his belt. He brought it to the Skrull's neck.

SHINK!!

The head lay a few feet away from the body. The mask which had been bathed in red the earlier day was now tinged green. Not just the mask, the surrounding area was sprayed. His armor was a mess. He brought the katana up to his hand, wiping it clean on his gauntlet.

His senses alerted him of a figure standing behind him.

"Clint?"